The Ordinary Life
by ThreeJane
Summary: There's not only heroes around. And Zion is not completely the paradise some would like to see...
1. Default Chapter Title

font face=arial color=black  
h1p align=centerThe Ordinary Life/h1  
  
h3Monday/h3  
  
bBlue Collar Man/b  
p  
2 am: Rick Franklin was on the return from his late shift in the food plant. Zion was   
a bit more quiet than during daytimes. Many of the citizens were having daytime-jobs.   
At this time only some workmen, drunkards and cops were on the streets. For correct   
atmosphere lights were dimmed in the tunnels they called 'streets' at Zion.  
p  
During the darker hours the rats and roaches - omnipresent plague anyway - were more   
daring and active. Rick could see rats crawl in and out Zion's sewer-grates and every now   
and then a cockroach was crushed under his shoes with a faint but scaring cracking noise.  
p  
Rick was 33 years old, an average tall man with long brown curly hair, carried in a   
pony-tail most of the time to tame the strands, hazel eyes and a slightly tanned skin. No   
plugs - he was born at Zion. To determine his origin would have been impossible. Zion was a   
melting-pot.  
p  
After the machines' last attack he still had to take several detours on the way   
between his job and his home. He had to pass some of the darker quarters of Zion. He   
walked there, head down, shoulders pulled up with fast strides. He avoided contact   
with the people there. Anyhow he could not ignore the junkies around; most of them   
former fighters, now using their IV-plugs for easy injection of drugs.  
p  
Wrecked existences they were. Ruined from the war, burned-out at an age when a free-born's   
life would just start. He remembered what his wife's father Charles once had said:br  
"We use them too early. They're just kids and not supposed to fight a war at that age.   
They should give them a good education and training first. There's not a month without   
one or more of them freaking out while around here. And most of them only about 20 years old."  
p  
Charles Boudreaux had worked as a policeman at Zion. He had been a giant, dark man with   
a soft heart. He never forgot the human being behind the case. But one day he had not   
been able to get through to the freaked-out fighter, stoned with drugs. He had been   
shot before his colleagues managed to stop the madman.  
p  
Charles' wife had died 4 years before that and now the four kids were left alone. George,   
the eldest had just left to serve on a hovercraft as paramedic and mechanic at age of 21,   
Rae, just 18, quit college and decided to bring up her two younger brothers, Michael (14) and Theo (10).br  
That was the time that Rick had decided to live with Rae. They had been together for 1 year then and now she   
could really need his support. The money Zion paid for the two teens and Rae's efforts to   
bring them up was not too bad, but with what he earned they were able to make   
a better living and keep the Boudreaux's house.br  
All of a sudden Rick and Rae somehow had to raise two kids, although they were themselves still adolescents.br  
12 years had passed since that night. George had died like so many others. Michael had become a rare guest since  
he served on one of those ships that were far-going, exploring unknown - or better: forgotten - parts of   
the sewer-systems. Theo was living his own life.  
p  
Rae. After all these years his heart still skipped a beat when he saw her. When Rick had   
seen her first he had known she was the one for him. Her or nobody else. And obviously he had been right.  
p  
The sound of his feet was drowned out by the ever-present sounds of Zion. The city never   
was really quiet. Steam and water, flooding through countless kilometers of pipelines created   
the background music, the sound of life here in the caverns.  
p  
p align=centerb ************ /b/p  
Rick turned left to enter the street they were living in. It was an older part of   
Zion. In these aisles the houses where carved into the rock, metal was only used   
for doors or where walls had crashed. The alleys were smoothed by generations of feet   
walking them. Cables and hoses were hooked up at the ceiling. It was a noisy quarter,   
the pipes in need of repair, steam hissing out of smaller leaks.br  
The sewers here were rather new. It looked like they had just put tubes into the grooves   
that had simply been covered by grates and this way served as sewers.  
p  
During daytime there were always kids playing on the street, some old-timers sitting on chairs, watching, talking.  
p  
Most people living here were of Amerindian or African-American origin. And a lot   
of them - not just the kids - were freeborn people. Most houses were very old   
and only a few doors had numbers. The people who lived here were mostly born at   
exactly the same place, they never had the need to know numbers, they just knew everybody else around.  
p p  
He reached their house and found the big kitchen still brightly lit. Something unusual   
must have happened. He stormed into the room to find Rae sitting there, talking with Michael and another woman.br  
"Michael! Welcome home, man. How're you?" the two men greeted and embraced just like brothers. br  
Then Tank introduced Diamond. She was a small woman, Caucasian type and her cold eyes   
did not get together with her dark, soft voice and her smiling face. The way she sat close   
to Michael made clear they belonged together.br  
It was about time he showed up with someone!br  
"What happened? How's your leg?" million questions and hundreds of stories, but they   
had to wait. They all were tired actually and so they all left after some more smalltalk.  
p  
p align=centerb****************/b/p  
In the bed Rick pulled Rae close to him.br  
"You're lucky to see him." he stated.br  
"Yeah. He said they're going to stay for a while, three months at least. The ship is in a bad   
shape and has to get a major maintenance-checkup. It's good to have him around for a   
while." He could tell she was smiling.br  
"How do you like his lover? She hasn't said too much while I was present."br  
"Neither did she before. I hope she's right for him. He was on his own for too   
long; hope she will not break his heart."br  
"Rae, you can't pamper and protect him for all his life. If he had chosen her, then I   
think it's OK. He's grown up, you know?" he grinned.br  
Rae was soon asleep after a very long day while Rick resumed day's happenings as   
he did always. From Michael's room he could hear muffled sounds - well at least   
actually this woman seemed to do him good. With a smile he shook his head and dozed off.  
p  
  
bThe Man Behind the Bar/b  
p  
2 am, El Sleezo's Cafe and Bar. Sleezo rang the bell that indicated the last guests it was closing-time right now.  
p  
Sleezo was a man in his early fifties, a giant dark man with white hair.   
A veteran who had settled down at Zion some 20 years ago and opened this bar.   
Having it located not too far away from the docks and hangars, he had many fighters among   
his guests that kept him up-to-date with information.  
p  
During the years the city's structure had changed and now El Sleezo's Cafe and   
Bar was to be found on the borderline between the growing red-light-district around the   
docks, a housing area where many free-born workers lived and the freak-zone: the now   
run-down section that had suffered most on the machine's attack, housing some junkies and other outcasts.  
p  
Most of the inventory was made of steel or stone. During the years El Sleezo had   
learned that it was a good idea to have _all_ things made indestructible to keep damage   
during the reoccurring fights as small as possible. Nevertheless the chairs were   
well formed and rather comfortable. Even the obligatory mirror behind the bar was made of   
polished steel. The bar itself was from an old mess-table from some wrecked hovercraft.  
p  
Only one left in a dark corner: a lonely, drunken man.br  
"OK, pal, you gotta go now." the only answer was a lost look. br  
"Listen: you have to stop this. You're no help for anybody. Get sober and then back to   
work! Got me?" he pulled the man up and led him to the exit, "take care and good night." *you'll need it, man!*br  
p  
He locked the door and went to the kitchen, gathering the leftovers, placing them outside   
the back-door. As always they would be gone next morning. He sighed: there were many   
hungry mouths around lately and the government either did not care for or could not reach them.  
p  
At 2:30 he had finished and went upstairs to his private rooms and after a quick shower   
he went to bed. The upper back part of the house was carved into the rock, the front built   
with shaped stones and some metal-sheets. The window was open but secured by heavy steel   
bars - as were all windows in the house. Sometimes he heard the strange sounds from the freak-zone   
and he wondered if they were uttered by human throats.  
p p  
  
bTo Serve and to Protect/b  
p  
"If you insist, Ma'am, we can take him with us" Police Officer Mara Cheng was   
talking to the beaten-up woman while her partner kept the woman's husband under control.br  
The woman shook her head.br  
Mara sighed and shrugged. They couldn't do anything without this woman giving them an OK.br  
"OK, Frank, let's go."br  
They left, sending the spectators away from the entrance. Then they headed for a near-by   
cafe to have some of the black liquid they called coffee.  
p  
Mara slid a hand through her jet-black straight hair.br  
"I hate this, Frank!" Mara was 36 and worked as a cop now for more than 10 years.br  
"Yeah. But think of all the times we could give help!" Frank was always so optimistic.br  
"One day it'll be too late. He's gonna kill her and then we are in the questionable lucky   
position to arrest him finally. Great!" she snorted.br  
"You just can't be everywhere, Mara."br  
Well, he was right - yet he wasn't.br  
"Pal, time for the borderline-patrol."br  
They left, heading for the 23th street west that was now the eastern border of the so called Freak-Zone.br  
p  
Nobody entered that sector. Most electricity was cut-off in there. It was the dark   
spot of Zion. Nobody was sure what was going on in there and even the cops only   
patrolled along the borders. Sometimes a robbery took place and the guy escaped in to   
the Zone. But they never followed them in there:br  
It was creepy, especially on the night-shifts when most of Zion was rather quiet.   
Sometimes they could see shadows move or hear screams from far within.br  
They stayed on the other side of the street, did not feel too comfortable.br  
Mara wondered how many were living in there. How did they get along? Where did they get food from?br  
She had never heard of anybody caring for those people. Nobody in the government seemed to   
care for those living in the Freak-Zone. Maybe they just did not know?  
p  
/font  
  



	2. Default Chapter Title

# 

Tuesday

**The Call for Authority**

"It's about time they do something!" Rick snorted.  
Tank had just told him and Rae what had happened to Geordy 20 hours ago. The two couples sat in the Boudreaux's kitchen. 

Tank's right hand rested on Diamond's back, his legs stretched out under the table - he felt pretty relaxed and did not completely understand why Rick was so upset.  
"Take it easy, man. All they wanted was his money."  
"That doesn't matter, Mike! You can defend yourself. But the kids around? And the rumors you hear are getting worse every day. They should organize a raid and burn it all down after. It can't go on like this! These freaks are dangerous!"  
"Rick. You talk about people, not roaches or rats!" Rae tried to bring him back to the ground.  
"Sometimes I can't see the difference." Rick said.  
"You forget yourself, man." Tank said calmly, "Most of them were fighters. They got ruined in a war we're still fighting. That we fight for your safety, among other goals. It could be me just as well."  
"No. There was never a freeborn caught among them. Only 'them'."  
"Rick!" Rae tried to keep him from insulting their guest, her brother's love.  
"Right, Rick." Tank sat up, straightening himself, "those freaks don't even have a family. Nobody cares for them. So before you go and yell for consequences keep in mind that people like you who are quick with pointing their fingers at others bear a part of the guilt." He put his arm around Diamond in a protective gesture. 

"Guilt? What did I do?" Rick's voice was filled with disbelieve.  
For the first time Diamond spoke  
"Nothing. And that's exactly the point, Rick. Like all the others you look away, call for the authorities to do 'something'. You owe them, Rick. Because they volunteered in this war. As Tank said: they are fighting for you. Tank does. I do. And only because most of us have nothing: no family, no roots, you acclaim the right to ignore us? We should take it for granted that Zion cares for us when we need help. - And now excuse me, I don't want to bother your eyes with my plugs any longer." She got up and went upstairs. 

They sat there in silence for a while, then Tank got up to meet Diamond.  
"Excuse me." Tank felt terrible.  
"Michael!", it was Rae, "You know she will always be welcome! We don't make a difference."  
"Yeah, Rae. He made that clear. Even I got it." He sighed, "Jeeze, Rick: it was beyond my imagination that my love and my family could be separate matters." He turned and walked upstairs with hanging shoulders. 

**Promise**

Tank reached the room that had been his realm for so many years. A small room with a locker and some shelves, carrying his invaluable treasures: old books, frail from being read countless times. And a bed - old but cozy, even if it was only because it had been his for all his life. 

He did not switch on the light, he knew every inch of the room by heart. In the dim light that trickled in through the window he could see a silhouette under the sheets. 

Tank slipped under the blanket, hesitantly reaching out for her.  
"He didn't mean what he said, Diamond. He's only worried about the kids' safety." His voice was brittle.  
"That will never end, will it?" she whispered.  
"What?"  
"This stupid racism. Dancer was right: it has only another face now. That person - It could have been me just as well."  
"Don't say that, please!" the fear Tank suddenly felt was like a steel rim around his heart.  
"I could be one of these freaks just as well. Next month, next year, who knows?"   
Tank pulled her close, embracing her tightly.  
"God, gem, please don't say that! I don't want to lose you. You scare me! This will never ever happen to you, I promise!" he kissed her again and again.  
"We'll never part, Tank."  
"I love you, Diamond."  
"I love you too, Tank." She kissed him and let her hands slide down his back, searching for the hem of his top.  
His lips were on her throat, her shoulder, while his hands pulled off her top with a desperate passion, created by the sudden fear of loosing her. They quickly got rid of their remaining clothes. Diamond's lips left burning traces on his chest. She straddled him and while his hands hungrily wandered across her body, searching for her small, firm breasts, she slid further down.  
Tank's sighs told her what to do and when to stop.  
Then she lowered herself onto him, getting lost in the intense pleasure of their lovemaking. 

# 

Wednesday

**Wake-ups**

"Will you go and lay an information against that freak?" James asked during breakfast.  
"I don't know. Won't bring the m-money back." Geordy shrugged.  
"Yeah, but you should report it, so they get an idea about how bad the situation really is. If everybody acted like you, they will never realize the problem. - Do you listen to me?" James waved his hand in front of Geordy's face who was staring out of the window.  
"I don't like the idea of going to the police. That person w-was just an unlucky one. Why make them go after her?"  
"That's not the point, Geordy: they must get the feeling something has to be done. They need to be stumped onto the problem. That's why you should go."  
"Maybe you're right, James." Geordy would think it over.  


The two men headed for their work. 

****

When Rick entered the kitchen it was already late. Diamond was in there, cleaning up. An embarrassing situation.  
"Hi." he said and fetched himself a mug, a plate and something to eat.  
"Good morning." Nothing in Diamond's voice or behavior suggested her attitude might have changed in any means after last night. That wasn't too hard because she always appeared to be very detached.  
Rick sat down and prepared himself.  
"Diamond, I want to apologize for what I said last night. I was out of my mind and said things I did not mean. I'm sorry."  
"OK. But you should tell Tank, cause he's the one who is really hurt." She went back to her work; the case was settled for her.  


****

"OK, Mr. Webster. We'll see what we can do. But don't hope you will get your money back." Mara Cheng had filled the form and now handed it over to Geordy. He signed it.  
"Officer, I know the m-money is gone. What we really want i-is to make the administration aware of the situation."  
"Why?"  
"We have friends among the fighters. W-We feel it c-could be them one day, too. And I t-think they are humans l-like u-us. We should help e-each other."  
"Mr. Webster: you should go to the next council-meeting and bring up your concerns there. That would be a far better place. We are only the executive. We don't change things - although I wish we could."  
"I-I'll think that over. Thanks for the suggestion, officer." Geordy shuddered at the thought of speaking in public.  


**Rat-Stew?**

Carl Shaeffer worked at the vermin-control. This week rats were on the schedule again. That meant the carcasses had to be collected. They were too big to be left there. Even so the smell sometimes was heavy.  
The rats multiplied faster than they could kill them. From time to time they became a real plague. Carl did not really feel disgusted by rats. Basically he saw them just as another being that struggled for life. But they could have the whole sewers! Couldn't they stay away from Zion? Well, they better should have, because he was here and he was on the war-path. With a grim face he entered the locker-room to change his clothing. 

Some colleagues were already there, talking and joking.  
"Hey Carl! Heard it'll be rat-stew tonight again?" Bart licked his lips.  
"Yeah. Soooo yummy." Carl stroked his belly with a savoring gesture.  
"Holy cow, you guys are sick!" Shelley grimaced, "you guys believe the freaks eat them rats?"  
"Who told you that nonsense, Shel?" Bart asked.  
"Yeah. Rats are disgusting. And who would eat them, especially if poisoned? Someone's been kidding you." Carl wiped the thought away. Imbossible!  
"Was just a rumor I overheard." Shelley shrugged.  


With a bang Carl closed his locker. Right away he started to sweat: the protective clothing they had to wear was definitely too warm for the high temperatures at Zion. Being deep underground, the temperature was about 27 degrees celsius at Zion. Normally people wore tank-tops or t-shirs and thin pants. At work Carl and his mates had to wear overalls that covered them from tip to toe, thick gloves and heavy boots. 

At least they would not have to wear the respirators they had to when they used the gas against the roaches. It was only laying down baits and collecting carcasses. 

But the beasts were cute! They had spies that would test the bait and the rest of them would wait and see before they would eat themselves. So the research guys worked on super-slow poison and worked out plans to destroy their fertility. 

Best thing for today was that the area he had to care for was the hangar-area near El Sleezo's, so he could slip in for a coffee or so. 

Carl and his three colleagues went on with the small electric chariot. On every move their light protective overalls caused rustling sounds, their heavy boots thudded on the ground, equipped with giant tweezers to pick up carcasses and big bags to collect them. In addition they had new poisoned baits with them. 


End file.
